Five Times He Was Over Her, Six Times He Realized He Never Would Be
by HopelesslyFictional
Summary: <html><head></head>Stiles Stilinski is resolved to move on from his feelings for Lydia Martin. He swears he's over the strawberry blonde. But is he really? One Shot.</html>


**Hey guys :) I'm going through a Stydia withdrawal and it's been a while since I've written anything, so I figured why not a One Shot? **

**I saw a prompt on tumblr along the lines of "five times did he believe he was over Lydia, six times did he realize he would never be over her" and I fell in love with it. **

**This is by far not my best work but it is the result of my studying for midterms procrastination and random burst of desire to write again. **

**I hope you guys like it: **

Maybe it was in her gait, light and airy, like she had forgotten their troubles and decided to bemuse herself with less sensitive topics, namely Stiles himself.

Maybe it was the way she seemed to breeze past him, cracking a halfhearted smile, and scutter on her way to class.

Maybe it was the fact that he had left her a heaping of voicemails and countless texts, texts that probably lay unread or deleted, but most certainly unanswered. Maybe it was the silence of his cellphone, her complete and utter indifference toward his pleas of comfort; maybe it was her inability to show affection towards him as of late, any kind of emotional attachment to the boy that had been her steadfast rock for the duration of the past year.

Maybe it was for all of these reasons that Stiles Stilinski had finally decided that he was completely, undoubtedly, indubitably over Lydia Martin. Maybe it was for these reasons that Stiles had on five separate occasions decided that he was over the strawberry blonde once and for all.

First it was the look in his werecoyote girlfriend's eyes the frosty winter morning that he rolled over in bed and found her there tugging at his shirt impatiently. Their legs were tangled under crumpled sheets and he could still smell her plum scented perfume hidden in the crevices of her neck. He snuggled closer to Malia, tugging on her hair, and planted a firm kiss on her forehead, as she folded into his warm body. He lived in the presiding moment and swallowed the nagging thoughts that crowded his always troublesome mind. Somehow her body did not fit into his like a puzzle piece, somehow his nose ached for the familiar scent of lavender vanilla bean wafting from a certain strawberry blonde, somehow he yearned for the silky strands of hair that his hand would accidently graze on secret missions to rescue their friends. Despite his discomfort, Stiles found himself settling into an unsettling slumber once again with an elbow poking his ribcage and a distracting snoring sound ringing in his ears and told himself that he was undoubtedly over Lydia Martin.

On the second week of winter break, Stiles buckled down and finished his assignments early, even studying for an upcoming test. He managed to tidy his room and clean up the residue from his makeshift suspect board, leftovers from the case of the Benefactor. He snuck in a football game with his father and made the two of them a hearty homemade dinner, after warning his father about the horrors of fast food meat and what it could potentially do to the aging sheriff's health. Only when he tucked himself into bed later that night, at the ripe time of 10:03 PM, did he hesitantly check his phone, his gut aching for some form of communication from her. His mind wandered to their usual Friday night antics, whether fueled by fear, adrenaline, or boredom. He racked his mind to find a coherent thought, anything that he could send to the 5'4'' girl made of passion and fire and determination. Struggling, he huffed a sigh of defeat, quieted his screaming mind, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The last thought he could remember before drifting, _There's no way I'm still into Lydia Martin. _

On the 3rd of February, his cold hand held onto his girlfriend's hand, admittedly with a lackluster amount of affection, as he watched Lydia across the cafeteria parading with three boys following suit. Her demeanor suggested that she craved the attention, but Stiles, knowing her better than anyone, diverted his attention to the look in her eyes. A look of defeat, he almost detected a glint of anxiety resided in her comforting hazel eyes. One of her suitors, Stiles recognized him as a junior named Travis, leaned in close to Lydia's ear and whispered something that made her turn her nose up in disgust. The usually dominating girl tried to pull away but Travis held on tight and finished whatever treacherous thing he was attempting to arouse Lydia with. Stiles watched as she flinched, visibly swallowing her repulsion. Every fiber of his being demanded that he stand up, march across the cafeteria, and tell the overly confident junior to take a walk. But Stiles only sat there, and silently reminded himself that it wasn't his place anymore, maybe that it was never his place, to involve himself in the business of Lydia Martin. He rejected every pull for him to the cross the cafeteria and save the strawberry blonde one more time. The only indication that the interaction had any effect on him at all came in the form of Malia asking him to release her hand from his suddenly tight grip. He only shook her hand off, rubbed his on his jeans, and cursed himself for getting sucked back in. After all, there was no way he was still into Lydia Martin.

The clock read 4:07 AM as Stiles shot up from his restless slumber. The air around him thickened and he struggled to inflate his lungs. The panic seeped through his skin, the endless nightmares on constant loops through his buzzing mind. He gripped the sheets between his sweaty palms and squirmed. He haphazardly palmed a pillow and screamed into its base. He yanked the covers off of his body and scrambled to the floor. He piled himself into a heap and gasped for air that wouldn't come. His body heaved, his mind raced, his body shaking. And in the moment just before he felt himself fall off the precipice, he felt her lips crash down onto his. He held his breath instinctively and closed his eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. He held the contact for as long as possible, held it until he felt his lungs burning, searing, screaming for air. And when he exhaled, opening his eyes to the harsh reality of the situation, he only felt more alone. He sat on the floor for the rest of the night, unblinking and enveloped in the darkness with the meekest of resolves resounding in his head: _I don't need Lydia Martin. _

Cutting fifth period, Stiles jumped in his jeep and drove around Beacon Hills, desiring to fill a void he had been feeling over the past couple of months. The town was quiet, almost too quiet for his liking, and his friends had remained out of harm's way since the Benefactor mystery was laid to rest. And he supposed he should feel calm, happy even that perhaps the town's troubles were over, that his friends were finally safe. But there lie a threat in Stiles' gut that he just could not seem to devoid himself of. Trying desperately to fill that void everyday with study sessions with Scott, dinner with his dad, and phone calls with Malia, he found himself drowning in a sea of despair. Something was missing. It was only when he pulled into a parking lot, about twenty minutes outside of Beacon Hills, and threw his head into his hands did he see a stipend of his red string lying between the passenger side seat and the seat belt buckle. Only then did he wrap the string around his own finger and remember the last time he had seen it. They had been trying to figure out the identity of the Benefactor in his room for hours before they realized that they had forgotten to grab dinner. Both of them were tired beyond comprehension and Lydia hadn't realized until they were secured into the jeep that she still had a strand of the red string wrapped around her pointer finger. In a hasty and sleep deprived move, Stiles grabbed Lydia's hand and unwrapped the string in a painfully slow exchange, their eyes completely locked on each other's. Only once they had realized their hesitation did they finally look away from each other. Stiles cracked a joke and his infamous smirk and Lydia's laugh rang throughout the jeep. Even though his body pleaded for sleep, his eyes hardly staying open throughout their meal, it was one of Stiles' favorite nights, a night he wouldn't have changed for anything. Holding the red string in his clutched hands now, Stiles couldn't help but wonder if his resolve to get over Lydia Martin had started to falter.

Six days after he found the string in his jeep, Stiles sat in his room, his earphones blasting, attempting to drown out any unwarranted thoughts. He hardly noticed the creak that resounded throughout the room or the splash of light that illuminated his extended legs as his bedroom door was timidly pushed open. There she stood, her strawberry blonde locks reflected in the bright light from the hallway, clad in a sweetheart dress and wedge shoes. She started to speak but the words caught in her throat and that was when Stiles noticed the tears staining her face, her matted eyelashes allowing blackened makeup residue to flow down her face. He tried to move but found himself paralyzed by her, as of late, unfamiliar presence. She paused at the door debating whether or not to enter the room before her internal battle seemed to claim a victory and she tiptoed toward Stiles still motionless on the bed. She sat across from him with her eyes downcast, her demeanor ashamed.

"I…" Stiles hardly got the first syllable out before Lydia was putting a light finger to his mouth willing him to hush.

"Stiles… I don't know what I've been doing. I just thought that since everything had calmed down that I should just take a few steps back. Since Allison died, I haven't been able to grieve, I haven't had a moment to just accept what happen or even to get angry about it; I haven't had a moment to breathe. And when I finally did, it all just hit me at once. And I realized that if it could happen to Allison, it could happen to any of us, Scott, Kira, _You_… I just thought if I took myself out of the equation than it wouldn't be as hard if something happened. I can't have something happen to you… to, uh, any of you. It would destroy me. But these past three months… I miss you, Stiles. I miss my friend. I miss you more than I can even explain and I don't know what I'm doing anymore and I'm just so sor-"

Lydia didn't manage to get her apology out before Stiles jumped to action and pulled the sobbing girl into his arms. So few times did Lydia let the cracks in her show and when she did Stiles swore it was one of the most beautiful sights in this world. All he wanted to do was console the weeping girl in his arms, comfort her with words and promises, but yet he knew all the same that all Lydia needed was a shoulder to cry on and a body to encircle her own. And so he stayed there with his best friend for hours that night and allowed her to grieve the death of her friend, allowed her to open up to him and release the feelings she had been coveting alone for months now. When she finally moved from her comfortable spot in his arms, Stiles' body reeled from the loss of warmth and he stuttered to find words to get her back into his embrace. Lydia surprised even herself when she uttered the one phrase Stiles had never thought he'd hear on that rainy night in early March: "Can I stay?"

Wrapped up in blankets and propped up on a slew of pillows, Stiles watched the girl in his arms slumber soundly for the first time in what he imagined as a very long time. He fell in sync with her breathing patterns and couldn't help the smile that formed when she snuggled in tighter to his body in her sleep. He lay there that night, feeling her hair between his fingers and enjoying the heat radiating from her body and swore that this was what true happiness felt like. This was utter contentment.

Maybe for those five instances did he believe that he was finally over the girl lying next to him. Maybe that sixth instance was what it took for Stiles Stilinski to see that he would never truly be over Lydia Martin.

**Thank you for reading lovelies and any and all feedback is more than welcomed :) **


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